shards of hope (her name)
by thesweetsummerchilde
Summary: for a point in his life, she was the light in the dark, the hope that kept him falling further down pitch black. and now she was just a ghost - a fragment, a shattered piece of who he once was; an illusion haunting him for the rest of his life. - ozlice


**Rated** : T for language, character's death and mental disorder.

 **Summary** : For a point in his life, she was the light in the dark, the hope that kept him from falling further down pitch black **..** And now she's just a ghost. A frigment, a shattered piece of who he once was, an illusion haunting him for the rest of his life.

 **Author's Note** : Yes, this is yet another tragic work of mine. Don't sue me! Thank you. And as always, reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome. So please? Pretty please with whipped cream and chocolate on top?

Also, I feel sadistic today :3 That's the reason for the whole just-tragic-and-such. But well, I am sadistic everyday.

* * *

Silky brown chocolate that cascaded down her back, amethyst eyes so vibrant and beautiful, petite form fit perfectly in his embrace... All mixing and shadowing and haunting him in his mind. Every waking moment of his life, that slender figure just makes a point to stick in his head, misted his vision. To slowly destroy his concentration, his world, his _life._ And be a rememberance of something, something he didn't khow - and he wasn't sure if he wanted to, anyway.

It was just a hollow darkness that he saw whenever he tried to find his memory. Blank. His memory was nothing, nothing, but everytime he seeks for what little shards he could gather, they only end up hurting him. Broken, blood, _broken_ , fire, **_broken_** , darkness...

It was worse that _she_ always stirs up such feeling, such torture.

Stays and won't go away, no matter how many times he tries or how much effort he puts in.

He tried to forget, Gods know he tried so hard to put her in the corner of his mind. Tried to make the fragments die down, tried to drown colours and scent, tried and tried...

But matter how he did, she would just find a way back, her innocent smile, her soft touch, ivory skin, rose fragrance, and Gods, her airy laughter, sparkling like summer rain.

She fills his senses, his life spins around her,...

And when he reaches out for her, an attempt to feel her skin on his fervour one, to have her; fate will just play a cruel joke on him. And she, she will just break into a million pieces of sunshine, golden shards slowly fading away. So unreal, so _untouchable_.

"A beautiful creature

Didn't belong to this rotten dimesion..."

She always wears that clothes, red coat loosely wrapping her figure, stained brown. Covering a horrible cut that must be on her waist.

The twisting pain in his chest, was it because she was somebody important to him - to the person he once was?

Those painful fragments, spinning around in the air, were those his?

No way, his past were nothing; they must be someone else's, they belong to another person, to another life, they can't possibly be his, right, he doesn't know them, he doesn't...

* * *

Red. She always wears that colour.

She always reminds him of that colour.

Always.

Red... There were so many shades of red...

Red of flame, red of sky, and red of blood...

Blood was everywhere, it flowed on the tiled floor, it dyed the walls, stained his eyes...

The isolated tower, that day, was drown in red too...

There was a voice. A feminine one. Small, but ever so sharp, determination filled her words:

"I will protect you with my own hand!"

"I won't let anybody touch what's mine!"

Blood streamed out, reddened her white dress, reddened the atmosphere.

Amethyst colour bled out violently.

Leaving those orbs void. Cold.

Not him, Oz doesn't know her, he doesn't, but his heart continued to ache...

* * *

Blackness. Blackness was the only surrounding. The walls had crumbled down.

There were many people.

His eyes only looked in the middle of the chaos, where two figures, black and white, glowed brightly.

"Oz..."

The black girl call him, so gently.

The smile never left her beautiful face. But dripping from it was something, something surely was not happiness...

His hands, it was his hands, these hands had swung the scythe through their bodies.

It was blood red again. Still blood.

The smile remained on her lips, a red thin line streaked down from the corner of her mouth.

"Oz..."

Her last word was still his name. The last person she saw, was him.

He looked as her distantly.

It wasn't her, it wasn't her, he repeated crazily. The girl he knew, the girl he had grown fond of was a lively, cheerful person. She was all about warmth and sweetness. The atmosphere around her was all happy and vivid.

Not like this, his mind screamed out, not like this. She was never so cold, so lack of warmth, so immobile, so _dead_. She was never the silhouette lying still like that.

This must have been a joke. Yes, it must have, she can never leave him, she can never be consumed by death.

Laughter escaped his chapped lips, naturally:

"Ahahahahahaha!"

His hands frantically searched around, desperately trying to hold onto anything left.

"This is not even funny!"

"Wake up!"

* * *

Strange scenes, but it provoked buried feelings deep down his soul, feelings he didn't know were there. The new scars just marred the old one, his whole heart and soul were bleeding, and he couldn't stop it...

It was opening a dangerous grave, he was falling down the endless pitch black.

No more, no more, his mind begged. He wasn't ready to face it, he couldn't bear this, he couldn't even breath. The atmosphere was weighing him down, and he drowned, pulled down by the misery he didn't know...

"AHHHHHH!"

The match in his drawer, somehow had made its way to his hand.

Emerald eyes bored into the pictures on the wall. Burning, bright and short-lived.

Her smile on those paper stayed there, fixedly, ignorant of the orange flame destroying everything.

Burning her pictures was burning his soul, his mind, his being. It hurt a lot... Burning them was destroying the proof of her very existence, and somewhere in one of those worlds, she must be burning now, slowly fading into gray ashes, scattered by a small breeze... Until nothing of her was left, nothing...

"Ash to ash, dust to dust."

He could remember her face so clear in his mind, the bright smile, but not her name, not her name, never her name. Giving her a name was admitting her existence in his life, admitting her death, and being dragged back to the tragic excuse of a life he must have had, judging on the fact just two mere memories had already given him such pain.

Don't remember. Don't identify her. Don't give her a name, don't make her special, don't, don't...

To remember is to hurt

To remember is to voluntarily fall back that trap he had escaped...

* * *

Somewhere around him, he could hear familiar voices, coming as some echo distant away:

"Doctor, how is he...?"

It was the golden-haired girl, recalling many imagines in him. Yet, he couldn't put a name on her.

The exhaling sound was barely audible.

"He is... complicated. His condition is something we cannot interfere. Right now... nobody can do anything to him."

Another sigh.

Oz felt the worried gaze the dark-haired man gave him, sending tingling sensation up his body.

Remember, whatever. It seems like forever ago.

Gil and Ada casted at his direction a gaze.

He didn't care.

His fingers ghosted over the smooth skin of her face. The beautiful being only his emerald eyes can see.

Tears welled up in a pair of orbs similar to his, and the blond girl choked sorrowfully.

The raven-haired man patted her shoulder, leaving him a sad look before walking out:

"Let's go, Ada"

The blond teenager didn't care. He simply didn't.

Instead, his eyes looked into her figure.

His calloused fingertips glazed on the creamy skin.

Whisper breezed gently in the air.

"Do I... know you?"

"Why do you always haunt me?"

Silence.

"Please..."

"I.. love you. So much. Do I?"


End file.
